*This story follows a cocky jock as he moves to a suburban neighborhood that has a heavy focus on gluttony.*
The house around me is alive with the sound of movers as they place our rustic, homey furniture around our new home. I can feel my muscular pecs bounce lightly as I jog down the stairs, heading outside to grab the end table for the gaming room upstairs. It’s early summer and hot, so my dad is also shirtless and sweaty when we bump into each other in the hustle and bustle of today. My lean, muscular frame bounces off of him. Even though I’m not exactly tiny at 6’0 and 185lbs of muscular beef, he’s definitely got a couple inches on me and a lot more years in the gym.
“Watch it there, Hayden. Next time you’ll fall on your ass.” He teases me with a smirk. Everyone says that we look just alike, but I don’t think so. His short cropped dirty blond hair, while wavy like mine, has some grey starting in and he grows out his scruff. His early 40s have aged his face a bit, but the glasses he’s wearing keep him looking younger. He’s also got killer shoulders, big biceps, thick legs, and the same abs as me. A few more years at the gym and I’m hoping my leanness will pump out more like his.
“Don’t wear yourself out pushing me around or you’ll get too tired to go to that pool thing tonight, old man.” I tease him back. There’s supposed to be some lame party tonight at the community pool that the Home Owner’s Association is throwing. Usually I wouldn’t be down for these kinds of things but they promised free food and the community parties are apparently a really big deal around here. Besides, who knows, maybe I’ll get to see some freaking eye candy while I’m at it.
This neighborhood, Highland Meadows, is one of the biggest up and coming neighborhoods in the state. That’s why dad moved so far out here, thought it’d make him seem cooler if we lived in Buzzfeed’s top 10 subdivisions in the US. It’s kinda like a dessert oasis type deal. Just a random subdivision with a few shops built in the middle of Nowhere, Arizona. The nearest Walmart is an hour away, along with Dad’s new law firm if that tells you anything. This really is not what I was looking forward to post graduation: moving back in with my dad in some random suburb where I don’t know anyone and there’s nothing but cacti and video games around to entertain me. Anyway I’m just staying with him while I’m looking for my career job post graduation. Worked my ass off for that business degree but now all I can get are these damn unpaid internships. Dad told me to come figure my shit out at his new place, which I have to admit is a pretty sweet deal. Big grey/beige stucco house, 4 bedrooms, 3 upstairs and his master downstairs, huge pool surrounded by palm trees, 4 car garage for his Lamborghini and my Mustang. Could be worse.
/
“Alright boss,” The head mover say to dad while he fixes himself a protein shake. “We’re all done here for today. That last load with all your home gym equipment should be here in a few weeks. Again, sorry about that mix up.”
Dad’s shaking of his shaker is aggressive. “I guess it is what it is. See you guys in a few weeks.”
Once he’s done sending the movers off I go over and put my hand on his firm shoulder, grab his shake, and start chugging the cold, bland liquid until his meaty palms can grab it from me.
“Boy you need to learn what’s yours. There’s more in the cabinet, make your own.” He complains to me as I laugh at his frustration.
“Calm down, we’re about to eat anyway. Besides, do you even need a shake after moving furniture? It’s not much of a workout if you ask me.” I say smugly, flexing my arms a bit.
We change into our speedo style swim suits, grab towels, and make our way over to the community pool while the sun starts to set. On the short walk I notice all of the neighborhood men are driving to the pool, despite the walk being less than 15 minutes max in any direction.
“Different culture here, huh?” Dad asks, gesturing at all of the cars in the lot.
“Yeah,” I say, narrowing my eyes and noticing something weird. “Looks like there’s a reason for all of them driving, too. They’re a bunch of fatties from what it looks like.” About half a dozen or so men are walking from their car to the palm tree lined gates in speedos. They’re ranging in size but the smallest one can’t be less than 220lbs. So much for finding eye candy, I guess.
Dad chuckles, wide eyed. “Guess we weren’t the only ones here for the free food. You know, I wouldn’t be so eager to show off if I was anywhere near a big as them. At least the neighbors seem… comfortable.”
As we make our way through the gate, I barely notice the extremely buff man welcoming us in because of all the distractions offered. The football field sized pool is surrounded by buffet tables of various barbeque style food. Ribs, sausage, burgers, hot dogs, 3 styles of potatoes, mac and cheese, cole slaw drenched in sauce inside of heated/chilled serving dishes that are being refilled by probably volunteer community members. There are plenty of extra wide pool chairs to lounge in, and a couple of the heftier neighbors, probably a couple of younger guys approaching 500lbs, are lighting tiki torches.
“Welcome, welcome!” The muscle hunk wearing only a skin tight speedo says with a seductively deep voice, towering over both dad and I. Damn, he’s got to workout a lot. Although it is nice seeing someone here who isn’t a total lardass. The veins in his hulking traps bulge as he crushes my hand with a shake. “You guys must be the Turners- it’s great to have you two newbies come out to our weekly summer pool social. Not that you’d be able to resist all of this delicious barbeque, right?” He winks at us with his sculpted face that his dark, faded buzzcut only accentuates.
“Well it’s certainly quite the treat. Who puts on all of this anyway?” Dad asks, slightly turned away by all the lardy wet men lining up now that food’s about to start being served.
“Why I do, of course. I believe we’ve corresponded over email Mr. Turner. I’m Brock Madrigal, head of the HOA here at Highland Meadows. By the way, might I apologize for the mix up with your extra stuff that has to go through the extra furniture checkout process?“
Dad sighs, straightening his stylish glasses. “Yeah, it’s no big deal I suppose. Just a bunch of gym equipment anyway. I have access to a gym close to my job in Tucson, but this one’s going to have to fight going to pot while we wait. He’s tried eating me out of house and home since he hit puberty,” he finishes, slapping my abs with the back of his hand.
“Ah Mr. Turner, you and your son look quite disciplined. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. How about I introduce you to a few of the neighbors while you’re here?” Brock Madrigal offers as I walk away from their boring HOA blah blah blah. I’m hungry anyway.
I step in line and really look at everyone and it’s like I’m the only fit one here that I can see. It’s almost kinda gross being around all these wet bellies and man boobs. A lot of their speedos don’t even fit. The blubbery guy in front of me has the fattest ass crack pushing out of the top of his tiny swimsuit. I would ask him to buy a bigger one, but someone behind me with a loud voice starts complaining to me.
“Bro I’m so hungry I’d eat those ribs even if they came from a horse, man.” I turn around to see a guy in his mid 20s who would be cute if it weren’t for the basketball attached to his abdomen. He’s about my height and looks like he might workout but he’s gone to 7 or 8 too many of these pool parties. Well trimmed beard with a nicely styled ink black undercut, coppery skin, inhumanly perfect brows, broad shoulders and hips, it’s hard to tell if he’s got pecs still or if those are man boobs. I’m gonna go with man boobs because his nipples are kinda fat and he’s got a happy trail that leads down into his untrimmed pubic fat that’s spilling out of his white speedo along with his hairy, chubby thighs. He’s got a sleeve of tattoos down his semi muscular arm with a bunch of skulls and Halloween looking shit. His still slim face looks vaguely familiar but I don’t think I’d know a glutton like this.
“Nah man you already need a new suit. You sure you should be hitting this buffet?” I ask him as he rubs his belly in circles, slightly bent over from hunger causing rolls to form.
“Have you tried the food at these parties?” He asks. “By far too good to skip. To die for man.”
I roll my eyes and change the subject. “Where do you workout around here anyway? My home gym equipment has to go through some extra HOA approval thing.”
“Man, there’s nowhere to workout around here. I just moved in a couple of months ago and still haven’t been able to find a gym that’s less than an hour and a half away. It’s been a minute since I’ve gone, if you couldn’t tell.” He says as he touches his soft pot belly to my abs. He needs to watch it with that gross thing.
We get to the front of the line and the longer I stand here the more I feel the fatties in the pool are talking about me. Weird glances from them, some set down their floating plates to point over at me. Maybe they’re in awe at there being someone who isn’t a whale besides that hunk Brock Madrigal. I fill up my plate with a couple of rips and some mashed potatoes. Protein and carbs should be enough- but holy shit this food is good. Before I lose my place in line I get a full plate of mac and cheese with sausages on top. Definitely need more carbs and protein than I though.
Basketball belly boy and I walk over to some chairs, his shimmering fat slightly bouncing with each step. He’s carrying 3 stacked plates of mostly ribs. Great choice if you ask me. I stuff my face as if I haven’t eaten in weeks, just like all the fatties around me. I don’t particularly like eating like them, but who cares if I get some barbeque sauce on my face and pecs? The pool will wash it off. Except, by the time I’m finished with seconds I’m way too full to get in the pool. I look down and see my smooth abs are being pushed out by all the food. Shit. I’ll have to drive super far just to go workout tomorrow. For sure.
Dad half walks half waddles over towards me, the same distended belly on him. He’s got a hand over his gut/abs and stifles a burp before asking me about my new friend.
“He’s just some guy who moved here and put on a few, who cares? I see you also found the food…” I explain as he takes a heavy seat next to me, still stuffing himself off a bowl of potato salad.
Brock Madrigal, the impossibly tall and muscular man, saunters over to the three of us. He’s still wearing that speedo that’s so narrow and tight he’s basically naked and eating a vegetable kabob, which I haven’t seen any to try. “So I see everything’s tasting good tonight?”
“Yeah.” I grunt. “Best food man.”
“Perfect,” he looks down at my bloated stomach. “Too bad we don’t have a gym in town, right? Looks like you could use a workout after tonight.”
For some reason my face goes red and I feel my growing cock twitch in my suit. I’d jump this man’s bones any day but I’m not sure what’s happening with what he’s implying.
Right in front of us a rather large man, maybe around 450lbs with fat tits, bends over to pick up some meat he dropped and his speedo snaps with a very audible sound, collecting the attention of everyone around. The fat man’s blubber pushes out as his suit falls to the ground, exposing his giant pillowy body for everyone to see. I expect the community members to be grossed out, but everyone, especially Brock Madrigal, cheers and some people clap. A bunch of men throw back beers as if to toast this man. With that Brock Madrigal walks off with the fatty, his hand on the man’s lardy shoulder.
“Bro that was so cool! That’s the first busting I’ve gotten to see at a party.” Basketball belly boy says next to me.
“Man, that was gross!” I say once the huge naked man’s out of earshot. “Did you see his dick?? I didn’t. Way too much blubber on that body.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Things are different at Highland Meadows. I know I can wait to bust out like that- I’m hoping it’ll happen with this suit soon. When I was your size I could only eat a few plates like you before I was stuffed but look at this.” He pulls out his stack of empty plates, 6 or so. “I can really put it away now.” He finishes with a bloated belly pat. I look at dad, cringing. They don’t get it here, that you can’t just be a lardo tubby fatass and celebrate it. It’s just not how it is.
“When I’m not too full I’m going to head back.” I tell dad as he licks potato salad off of his fingers.
/
The next morning I aggressively open the fridge wearing only my jock strap, more hungry than I’d usually be after eating so much the night before. The moving was a big workout, so I’m not sweating it. Most of the bloat is gone, anyway- abs are back to normal. Although the fridge is pretty empty which fuckin sucks. I throw a handful of blueberries into my mouth as dad comes over dressed in slacks and a button up shirt open enough to show off his barreled chest.
“Find anything good for breakfast?” He asks.
I swallow the berries with a gross look on my face. “Nah these suck,” I say, handing him the container. “Not nearly as good as the food from last night.”
Dad chuckles. “Yea, that was really good food… and you are right. These berries do fall short compared to that potato salad. Anyway, while I’m still getting comfortable at the new law firm you’re going to have to make yourself busy. I don’t want to have to babysit you while figuring everything out.” He tells me with a nudge in my ribs. “Why don’t you go grocery shopping today? Take a look around town.” He grabs his briefcase and heads out the door.
I go back upstairs and play video games for a bit, thinking about if it’s worth it to drive over an hour to get a workout in today. Especially with no food in the house? The gym is feeling less and less appealing as the doorbell rings. I trot downstairs, feeling my muscles bounce slightly with every stairstep.
Behind the glass is that fat guy from last night. The small one though, the basket ball gut boy. Let me tell you, this guy’s bloat did not go down overnight. Guess that’s what it’s like being a fatass. His plain white t shirt hugs every inch of his torso. Plump nipples pointing out, his belly hanging a good inch or two below the seam, his semi muscular arms getting pinched where his bicep chub is. I think his face is starting to get fat too. Surprised I didn’t notice that last night.
I open the door, still in my red jockstrap. “Hey can I help you?”
“Ah man cool! So this is your place?” He asks, stifling a heavy belch, and I nod. He’s quite observant for a fatty with crumbs on his face. “I was just coming to welcome in the new neighbors but didn’t realize it was you! Mind if I come take a look?”
I open the door for him. As he walks past me I notice his shirt can’t cover his love handles and his drawstring shorts can’t cover his plump, hairy ass crack. Part of me wants to go buy this guy some new clothes. “Come in come in,” I say to my new neighbor. “I gotta warn you, we don’t got much food if that’s what you’re here for dude. Looks like you ran out at your place huh?”
He heads straight for the pantry and fridge. “Well I was hoping you might have somethinggggg to eat. There’s like nothing here man I gotta take you to Highland Market. Best grocery store in town!”
I put on some dry fit athletic clothes and we head to Highland Market in his roomy truck. The store is right down the street, we could’ve easily waked. I didn’t know that was a grocery store earlier- it looks more like some kind of resort. There are more palm trees around, a long pool curving in front that has deck furniture and umbrellas, the place is 3 stories tall featuring open balconies stacked with columns for building support. A couple of rotund residents are sunbathing fat ass up in deck chairs wearing tight speedos with creamy drinks next to them. Guess that’s an image I’ll have to get used to.
A thought hits me. “Dude it’s Monday. Why aren’t you working?”
“Bro,” He says. “You don’t know who I am? Ammar Fox- I won the last powerball lottery a few months ago? Cmon man I was all over the TV.” He’s right. He was all over the news. I knew he looked familiar! But Ammar Fox was not fat. Ammar Fox was as trim and athletic as me! Jesus Christ this place took a number on him.
I look at his fattened body wide eyed. “Dude you’ve let yourself go. That was only a few months ago too, we need to hit up the gym later today for sure.”
“If we have time to drive out there after the Market then sure. I’m not too sure I’ll be able to walk well after this trip though.” He tells me. I’m grossed out so I have him park and we walk in. The inside is a mashup of buffet, grocery store, and resort. On either side of the expansive building there are bars with chunky bartenders wearing small shirts and In the center are buffet tables holding all kinds of pastas, heavy soups, fried foods, and other comfort foods. There are aisles and aisles of grocery supplies, but the smell of the buffet food hits me and I have to have some of those chicken and waffles. Ammar and I both make plates and chow down while we grab motorized shopping carts, which are the only kind available. Ammar holds his plate on top of his fat belly, but I have to use the fold out try to hold mine.
“Alright, where can I find the produce in this place?” I ask Ammar.
“Well…” He starts. “We’re kinda in the middle of nowhere and there aren’t too many of us here. The closest thing to fresh produce we have will be over here.” He drives his cart over a few aisles to where the pie fillings are. Cherry, strawberry, pumpkin, blueberry. He’s got to be kidding me. This can’t be the only produce they have??
“Dude seriously, enough with the fatty bullshit. I mean fresh like from the plant, not filled with processed sugars.”
Ammar opens a can of strawberry pie filling and pours in over what’s left of his waffles and hands it to me. “Just try it, it’s real fruit and if you’re worried about the sugar just run an extra lap later.”
I’m already fairly full from my own plate, but the pie filling looks so perfect on those waffles with the bits of friend chicken leftover. One bite won’t hurt.
I leave the aisle with several cans of each flavor. We look for nuts and I leave with peanut butter and Nutella. I look for protein and I leave with fish sticks and chicken nuggets. People always joke that french fries with ketchup are a salad but there’s legit a sign next to the fries that tells you potatoes and tomatoes are fruits and vegetables. I know it’s not the best food for me, but I’ve never eaten like this. What’s the worst that can happen if it tastes so good?
Crash! I accidentally ram my cart into someone else’s while scoping out all of the different types of fried okra they have to offer. The man in the other cart is wearing very wearing a very tight workout shirt that doesn’t cover half of is belly and is stuck between his fairly massive man boobs. He’s gotta be at least 350lbs of tanned blubber and short cropped dirty blond hair. His cart is filled to the brim with similar foods to mine, except with a lot more candy and ice cream. He seems to barely be able to fit his wide thighs, belly, and ass all into the same seat but apparently he insists on not going up a size in mobility cart. He’s even using the tray for his food when clearly he has enough room for more than one plate on his stretch marked gut.
“Woah,” He says, looking at me with surprise in his eyes and sauce on his double chin. “I haven’t seen another skinny guy here in ages! Feels like I’m the last one left.”
I’m confused. “What? Are you joking?“ I ask him.
“You have no idea how hard it is finding someone in shape around here! Most guys look like your friend over there.” He says, guesturing towards Ammar who is slowly licking the pie filling off of his plate. He looks at us and wipes red syrup off of his slightly chubby cheeks. This is hard to watch.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ammar interjects, wheeling around me. Once out of earshot of the fatass behind us, he explains. “That’s Chad. He’s well known around here for being crazy delusional about how fat he’s gotten since moving here. Looked just like you at first but now that’s long gone. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen him, almost didn’t recognize the poor guy.”
I open up another can of pie filling, putting it on the last of my waffles. “Yeah man that’s crazy. How long has he been here?”
“Dunno for sure. Less than a year or so.”
“What!” I scream, a little too loud. “He looked like me and now he’s that big in less than a year? I’d never let that happen to myself,” I promise as I eat a bite of cherry pie waffles.
Just then, a gigantic figure wearing skin tight short shorts and an impossibly thin tank top that barely holds the name tag reading “Brock Madrigal \ Owner” approaches. My cock twitches as he looms over the two of us sitting bloated in these mobility carts with pie filling on our faces and food in our hands.
“Hey fellas,” he greets with a flashy smile. “Heard some commotion over here, everything going alright?”
“Oh uh yes sir.” I tell him. “Just met Chad over there and was a little surprised is all.”
Brock Madrigal laughs deeply. “Ah him, yeah he’s such a jokester. Great with nutrition though, much like I see you are Hayden. Keep eating that stuff in your cart and you’ll be as sculpted as me in no time!” He flexes, causing his muscles to ripple and his shorts to strain. He a bite of an apple that I’m too full to ask where he got.
“Bet you can’t wait to really bulk up once all your gym equipment gets here!”
//
Except, the gym equipment still hasn’t come, and it’s been 6 or 7 weeks now. That afternoon after our trip to the grocery store Ammar and I came back to my place and played video games all day in the dim game room. When dad got home he was pissed to see us laying around with a shit ton of food wrappers but man I was too full to clean anything up! He calmed down once he got some of the Highland Market groceries in him, and the next morning I found a similar pile of food trash in the living room he left while he went to work.
Dad and I both decided to try a more hardcore bulk until the gym stuff gets here. That way we can really hit the ground running and make big muscle gains with all the energy we have. So far dad’s put on about 32lbs. It was funny because one morning both his button down shirt and his slacks wouldn’t button and he had to call out from work. He said he was going to go to the Highland Meadow’s Men’s Clothing store but he started pigging out and got too full before he made it there. Said it was all for the gains, that he was gonna whoop me when the gym equipment gets here. I had skip breakfast that day and buy him some 36’ pants but even those were snug so he’s still struggling with those. If dad wants to talk about committed to the gains, I’ve put on 45lbs since we got here! 230lbs baby lets talk about gains! He’s got nothing on me. When I bring it up he says it’s because all I do is sit around and eat so he’s gonna make me start working soon. Jokes on him though cuz none of my nice clothes button and I can’t be showing up looking like the Pillsbury dough boy.
I walk down the stairs to answer the door in nothing but my really fuckin tight jock strap that holds up my smooth, jiggly bubble butt. My body feels heavier, my chest bounces on either puffy nipple and so does my soccer ball belly. Ammar keeps saying it’s definitely a basketball but if it were a basketball that’d mean I’m fat. I can feel my thick thighs rub together as I walk to the door and wish that the gym equipment were here already so this jock strap can stop pinching my love handles.
I open the door, scratching my hungry belly. “Hey guys, can I help you?” I ask the skinny men collected on my porch.
“Yessir we’re here to move the rest of your furniture in, everything has been processed according to the HOA standards.” One of the movers tells me.
“Oh sweet!” I flex, noticing the fat in my bicep droops more and bulges less than I thought it would. “I can finally start working out again.” I go to the kitchen while they’re moving in the heavy equipment and start sweating just watching them work in this heat. I fill a large bowl with chocolate chunk cookies from the market and pour heavy cream over it and add some of Brock Madrigal’s special protein powder into the mix. Gotta have fats, carbs, and protein every meal or I’ll end up like Chad. I eat a couple bowls of that and take a nap on the large living room sofa even though it’s only around 10am. Gotta save the energy for the killer workout later!
Ammar comes in and wakes me up around noon by playing with my soft, bulging pecs. “Dude,” he says to me, mouth full of breakfast burrito. “These are bigger than mine when you met me. You better watch out.” He finishes with a poke to my bulker belly. His finger sinks in more than I expected it to.
“Nah man you’ve definitely always been chunky. I’m just bulking. I still have my muscles just got a little bit of pre muscle going, duh.” I tell him, cupping his considerably bigger man boob in my hand. He’s wearing an extremely tight white shirt that fits him like a bra and a pair of shorts that he must’ve just gotten because they’re only slightly pinching his thigh fat. I remember thinking when I first saw him at the pool social that he might’ve once worked out but that can’t be true. He’s a total fat boy. He recently got some stretch marks on his bulging belly and love handles, and his moobs are getting way too big. He’s got a real double chin and fat cheeks that push out his scruff. Even his tattoos on his sleeve are beginning to get warped by his soft arm fat bulging out. I wouldn’t usually be seen hanging out with someone who’s made himself so grotesquely overweight but he’s fun to play video games with and brings me bulking food. And you can’t tell nobody but this food here makes you super horny so he’s been letting me fuck his huge growing ass lately.
As Ammar plays with my nipple, he sees my dick grow out the side of my small jock strap and he starts to kiss it with his tubby face. I squeeze my ass out of the jock and pull Ammar’s shirt out from under his developed moobs and over his head. I notice his arms don’t even look bulky anymore, just flabby. It kind of turns me on how big he’s getting, it’s like how big Brock Madrigal is. Fuck that man is sexy. He’s at every pool party every week, and he always checks in on me at the grocery store. I think about his tight ass as I plunge my sizable cock into Ammar’s hole. His whole body shakes and wobbles as I thrust into him, but only my belly and pecs and bubble butt shake. That’s how you know I’m not a fatass.
I reach down and grab Ammar’s dick but it’s so shrunken in all of his pubic fat that I just let it go, disgusted with him. I pull out and jerk myself off, ignoring my developing pubic fat and think about Brock Madrigal plowing my fat ass. Wait. Plowing my muscular and strong ass. That’s better.
I cum on Ammar’s belly, giving it a good slap to put him in his place, and he cums too. We play video games and eat until dad gets home, when I tell Ammar to leave. It’s gym time baby and we don’t need any fatties here.
I struggle to stand up and waddle my bloated belly over to the door and help dad bring his order from Meadow’s Burger. 6 triple stacked burgers for him and 7 for me, all with fries and tots. I’m so full that I don’t even want to think about starting on these for at least a half hour, so I burp and tell dad to change out of his tight monkey suit and meet me upstairs.
I put the weights on the bar and start with squats, wearing my jock strap and a black tank top that exposes a couple inches of my muscular bulker gut. Shit, there’s no way in hell I can squat the 170lbs I used to. I’m just so full. Fuck one rep was tough! And I didn’t even go halfway down. Belly bulging over my waistband, all of my chub bunching up as I attempt to squat this weight. Here, let’s try 160. No. 150. No. 140. No. Fuck it just the bar! Okay there’s one rep. “Fifteen!” I say as dad walks in, breathing heavily so he thinks I really did 15. “That was nothing! Your turn old man.” I step out of his way to catch my breath as his broad self in tight cotton shorts and a dry fit shirt that exposes the bottom his belly steps up to the bar.
“We’re warming up with just the bar, I see.” He says to me, remembering that we’d usually run a few miles before each workout. “That’s probably for the best, I’m not in a mood for cardio after a long day at work either.” He takes a bite of his Triple Stacked Meadow Burger and swallows, then squats the bar better than me his not full belly barely getting it the way.
“Well damn,” I say, pushing out my distended, heavy belly so I can walk to grab the fast food with less strain on my love handles. “Lets see if you can do that after eating your whole Meadow Burger order. Gotta have both of us on an even playing field!”
I lay on my back and rub my bulker belly as dad scarfs down his meal, looking like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. It’s not like he doesn’t bring bags of snacks for himself at the firm. About 4 burgers in and he starts slowing down, and I’m feeling like there’s more room for my order inside my tank, so I start to munch on some fries while he finishes. He’s done within 20 minutes and his shirt rides up over his smooth, bloated belly several inches. He leans back and huffs, struggling to find air after all of his food.
“Alright, now try squatting!” I tell him, shoving more burger into my mouth. Dad stands up, his tight shorts exposing his chubby ass crack, and he waddles his way over to the rack. He mounts the bar and squats a few times, but looks sick pretty quick.
“This is harder than I remember,” He huffs. “Too many more of those and I’ll lose my dinner.”
“For sure,” I say, swallowing. “Better to ease back into this. Rome wasn’t built in a day, huh?”
“Right.” He answers. “You buy more of those brownies I like? I bet they’d make a great post workout snack to rebuild our energy.”
/
The weekly pool social is tonight and after that workout dad and I did earlier this week I’m ready to go show off how built I’m gonna get. Dad walks out of his room in the same speedo he wore our first week here. He must’ve really had to squeeze into that thing because his ass is falling out the back and his gut is being pushed out over the top. Hell, I probably look pretty similar but with more muscle cuz it took me 10 minutes to fit my bulker chub into my speedo and it still isn’t comfortable. My ass, thicker thighs, and love handles are all being pinched like crazy. This bulking has really done a number on us- I’m glad we got that workout in because that shit was tough but gonna be so worth it when I really start grinding again in a few days.
Dad slaps my belly with the back of his hand as he walks by. “Alright bubba, you ready to drive over?”
“Yea dad but don’t call me bubba. That’s a fat guy’s nickname.” I tell him and flex my bicep, which I forgot how flabby it’s been getting.
“If the shoe fits wear it son. Now let’s get going.”
We drive over and hop out of dad’s Lamborghini and head straight for the food lines, my sweaty thighs rubbing against each other. I get behind a familiar ass that looks like it absolutely cannot be contained by the white speedo holding on for dear life. The fatty’s rubbing his rotund and hairy belly out of hunger, so I pinch his love handle to get his attention.
“Ow man what was that for?” Ammar asks, rubbing his soft side.
“Just wanted to let you know that it looks like tonight’s the night you finally get your busting over with.” I inform him. I don’t even know how he fit into that tiny thing, honestly. I’m not even sure if I could wear it this far into the bulk.
“Bro don’t you know it!” He says back enthusiastically. “I’ve been waiting MONTHS for this and I feel it man. Tonight’s the night I bust.”
The line goes by quick and before I know it Ammar’s stacking plate after plate, preparing a feast for himself. He’s still able to eat way more than me, but one day I’ll beat the piggy. No way I’m gonna let that lardass show me up. Dad, Ammar, and I grab some wide chairs at a large table with an umbrella and set out on our special weekly feast. As we eat we progressively lean back more and more. I start getting the food sweats within a few minutes and watch my belly swell with food.
By the time the majority of the plates are clear and only Ammar is still eating, a blob of a man with a big double chin and dirty blond hair comes over, disgustingly fatter than before.
“I gotta say, man I’m disappointed with how you’ve let yourself go since we met at Highland Market a few weeks ago.” Chet says to me, slightly out of breath from his obese legs having to walk him 20 feet. “Really thought I might be able to get a real gym partner, but can’t do that with some flabby ex jock, can I?”
“Dude, it’s called a bulk.” I tell him. “Now go eat a twinkie or something and leave us alone.”
Chet scrunches his bloated face. “Don’t gotta get angry man all I’m saying is that you’re getting flabby and you better watch out.”
Before I can respond I hear a seductively deep voice from behind. “Now now, we don’t have to fight boys. Although, Hayden, I must admit he has a point. You are able to put it away better than most of the men who move into our neighborhood.” Brock Madrigal says as he puts his massive hand on my shoulder. I try to suck in my gut but I’m too bloated from all the food I just destroyed. “No need to suck it in, we’ve all seen how much you and your dad have been eating tonight.” My cock twitches as he says that. “But, Chet, a little dirty bulking never hurt anyone, so you can go ahead and find your way back to a buffet line now and leave these gentlemen alone, yea?”
Chet says whatever and turns around, his flabby ass crack showing off to the world. I thank Brock Madrigal and he pokes my aching gut. “Just make sure not to overdo it on those hot dogs without starting up with your bench presses again. I don’t take you as the type to turn out like Chet, though. So keep up the good work kid, you’re right on track with that bulk of yours. As for you, Ammar, I do believe I should move your chair right over here.” He gestures to a spot at the head of the long pool. “That is, if you’re able to stand up. Here bro I’ve got you.” With his gigantic bulging torso, he wraps himself around Ammar who is huffing and puffing in gluttonous pain. He repositions the wide chair and sets Ammar in it. “There we go, only a few more bites it looks like.” Brock Madrigal says, patting Ammar’s belly that’s bigger than it’s ever been before. His speedo looks soooo close to busting.
Ammar take another bite of a rib, then another. I can hear the fabric straining around his expanding unshaved pubic lard. Ammar shoves a whole hot dog into his mouth, chews slowly, and swallows. He leans back ever so slightly and the front of his speedo snaps right off, grabbing the attention of all the other blubbery men around. Everyone claps and cheers, including dad and I. Good news is that his beach ball belly is so bloated and his underbelly has gotten so fat that his cock is hidden under all of his fatty beef. He’s got the dumbest smile on his face as he cheers for himself and claps, his arms jiggling.
“Alright guy, lets go get you a new suit!” Brock Madrigal says, lifting Ammar onto his feet. He looks close to vomiting, but the champ holds it in. His fat, naked self gets walked by the hulking god of a man to the house at the end of the pool.
“I’ll never understand why he wanted that so much.” I tell dad. “If I ever got that fat I’d never show it off to everyone.”
//
And I mean I guess I did get that fat, and even fatter, but I still never showed it off with a busting like that. I kept telling myself that the bulk could go a little longer and the gym could wait, but within a few weeks I was 250lbs and really looked at myself in the mirror. Most of my muscle had been replaced with lard and I was getting some small stretch marks. None of my original clothes fit and I had to buy some new elastic shorts, jock straps, and shirts at that store where they only carry fat guy sized. And even those clothes are getting tight now. My chest looked like some kind of pig bitch’s chest. Flabby and puffy, jiggling as I walked. I hadn’t seen my dick in forever so I just gave up on the gym. I was always too stuffed to workout and even when I wasn’t stuffed to my max I didn’t want to be lifting- I just wanted to eat.
So here I am, almost 3 months since Ammar’s busting at the pool, and fatter than ever. Our scale only goes up to 300lbs, and I was heavier than that last week. I’ve been trying to convince dad to give up his job because he’s only at 285 and now I feel like a total fatass around him. Not that he’s skinny either.
We both have an overhang with our obese bellies now and currently he’s in his underwear and unbuttoned work shirt next to me on the couch, snacking on his third large pizza of the night. His engorged belly, lit by the blue light of the TV, hangs softly under his wide but flabby chest that sticks out like two pointy grapefruits, pushing out his chubby thighs. His trimmed beard hides his double chin and puffy cheeks pretty well but his glasses are making his face look even chunkier than it already is. Even his fat arms strain the slleves on his XL shirt.
Dad told me that at work today he was wearing the last of his buttoning clothes when he got ketchup all over himself as he pigged out at lunch, and then one of his belly shirt buttons popped off. He searched for a big and tall guy’s shop during his break but had to go back for a meeting with his client like that before he could find anything. He said the client was a real skinny guy, one who just opened his mouth at the state of his fattened lawyer and then decided he wanted to check out a few other firms before making a decision. I’m not sure how much longer dad’s going to last there if he keeps this up. I really want him to leave that job too, it stresses him out and then he has to eat less. Then people see me and I’m the one looking like the major fatass because I don’t have to stop eating for work like him. Totally unfair.
My chubby fingers grab another slice of my meat lovers pizza. The grease is too good on this one today, I can feel it dribbling down my modest double chin. If I make a mess I’ll just have the new maid that dad hired, Ricky, clean it up tomorrow. He’s all in shape too, maybe 5’8 and 150lbs of leanness, so he’s really good at cleaning messes from nights like tonight. We’re watching some documentary about the police that dad put on in the dim living room, but I wanted to watch the food channel. I’d get up to leave if the food weren’t here. Getting up takes effort, too. Especially on a full stomach. As I swallow the warm greasy cheese I feel my belly stretch out a little more over my jock strap. I look down and feel my face fat push back. My double chin bunches up and my fat cheeks resist. I look as far down as I can in this position and it’s like there’s a weird double basketball in front of my abs, and little baseballs on my pecs that point the opposite way of each other, and ziplock baggies of jello attached to my lower back. And all of these things are jiggly and have the start of stretch marks on them. I’m pale now too, which fuckin sucks. I used to love my tanned bod but now it’s just fleshy pale, smooth chub. I try not to think about it too much or I want to workout, and that’s not gonna be fun like eating this pizza is.
“You going to the event tomorrow at Highland Market?” Dad asks me, adjusting his heftier body so he can let out a burp. There’s this big event at Highland Market every year for new residents where everyone has to show up in the speedo they wore to their first pool party and we see who can eat the most fancy donuts.
“Yessir, and I’m not just gonna go. I’m going to enter, and win. Gotta keep up the competition somehow!” I tell him.
Dad looks at my stuffed gut pushing out in front of me. “You definitely can out eat me. I’ll be there to root you on but there’s no way I’m going to injure myself trying to put away more food than you.”
“Oh for sure, weenie out old man,” I laugh. “But I’m not too sure on how strict they are on the whole original speedo rule. We all know I’m not going to be able to fit in my speedo from almost 5 months ago. I’ll just bring it and see what happens.”
“Decent enough plan.” Dad says. “I’m assuming Ammar will be there as well, and we both know how big that boy’s been getting lately. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
/
Dad drives me over to the market/buffet/resort the next afternoon. I wear my newer black speedo that’s not impossible to put on, and dad wears his too even though he’s not competing. The car sinks lower when we hop in than it used to, and takes a second to stop shaking as our lard situates. My soft, sweaty skin sticks to the leather seat. Even though it’s fall, the weather here never changes much here so the pool outside of the Highland Market calls my name because it’s still over 90* outside, which feels way worse now that I’ve put on a few. There’s a decent amount of the large men from the community lounging around, many holding drinks while swimming. The large patio doors at the Market are raised so there’s a perfect view of the action from the pool too. Looks like I’ll have a good amount of people here to watch me dominate.
I meet up with Ammar near the buffet tables while dad goes and fits right in with the other lardy men in the pool. Ammar’s white speedo that busted a few months ago is duct taped around the front and the tape is mostly hidden under his overhanging hairy belly. This boy has blown up so much it’s insane. If I hadn’t been right there eating with him almost every day I’d barely recognize his fat face or his bloated arm tattoos. Every part of him is fat and lardy, especially his swollen chest with big flabby moobs. He’s for sure the fatass out of the two of us, probably got a couple dozen or so pounds on me. Even with all of his extra blubber pushing out of his body he still has fallen behind in eating. Guess that’s the winner in me, always being able to beat the fatties.
“What’s up sugar tits.” I say to him, slapping his rotund moob with the back of my hand.
He tries to do the same to me but I’m too fast and he only kind of hits my chest fat with his sausage fingers. “Just here to win, unlike you. Didn’t even wear your original speedo man you can’t enter!”
A hulking mass of muscle finds his way into the conversation, his voice booming. “Well now, it does looks like Hayden has brought his suit with him.” Brock Madrigal interjects. “Here, come with me, you can change in my office.” He puts his strong meaty hand on the small of my soft back and escorts me to his office. He’s wearing his signature owners tank top/shorts but today he wears a party hat with donuts on it for the occasion. Goddamn his festiveness is sexy.
He opens the door to his office, which is filled with stacks of dozens and dozens and dozens of gourmet donut boxes on top of his chair, computer, and desk. Cookies and cream, chocolate chip cookie dough, maple, strawberry cream, my mouth waters for those sweet, sweet donuts. Brock Madrigal takes my old, size small, navy speedo.
“Here Hayden, let me take that huge suit off of you.” He says, pulling down my speedo and exposing my nude, blubber filled body. I try to hide my throbbing erection in my trimmed pubic fat. Shit, I can’t tell how good of a job I’m doing at hiding it because I can’t see down there.
Brock Madrigal holds up my size XXL speedo up to his trim waist. “Looks like you’re really getting chunky there, Hayden.” He tells me, cupping my moob in his veiny hand. I mean, not moob, uh pectoral fat. He cups my pectoral fat and rubs his thumb over my nipple, sending tingles down my crotch. I can feel my dick escape my pubic fat and it’s so hard I can feel the bottom part of my belly pushing it down.
“What happened here, Hayden? You were an athlete when you got here, how’d you get so big?” He asks me, his eyes narrowing into mine.
“Well, uh” I stammer. “I guess, uh, the food is just real good here, sir.”
He chuckles. “Well it must be for you to have gotten this fat! Let’s see how much you’ve changed.” Brock Madrigal kneels down, opening my small speedo for me to step in. He pulls it about mid way up my big, beefy thigh before it won’t go up anymore. “Well this isn’t going to work.” He says, crouched over and yanking them up an inch. My hard cock, squished between my heavy belly and my pubic fat being pushed up, rams into Brock Madrigal’s abs as he hefts up the speedo a little bit more. I hear the rubbery material strain against my lard.
“This really doesn’t want to fit Hayden, I can’t believe this is what you’ve done to yourself dude. Let me try one more time.” With his biceps rippling, he yanks up the speedo one more time before it tears around my fat hips, left in two pieces in his hand. “Well,” He says with disappointment. “Looks like I’ll just have to get the duct tape for you, too.” He grabs a roll of duct tape off his desk and has me hold the tattered speedo in place as he pulls the tape between my belly and pubic fat. When he’s done my cock is still hard and exposed, but he slaps me on my wobbling ass and says, “Now go win, piggy. You’re the one I’m betting on!”
I join the rest of the 10 or so competitors, most of which are sporting similar duct taped speedos as myself and Ammar. As Chet, undeniably fatter and more stretch marked than ever, plops down, his duct tape falls off and he’s left completely nude in his seat. There’s one long table with plates for each of us, and Brock Madrigal carries out boxes and boxes of donuts on a dolly and sets stacks in front of us.
“On your mark!” He says, holding a baby carrot. “Get set, go!” He cheers, tossing the baby carrot up into the air and catching it into his slender mouth.
As the future winner of this competition, I pile donuts into myself left and right, not caring what gets on my face. The only thing I care about is winning for Brock Madrigal. The dude freakin bet on me, how can I let that man down? My cock pushing against my massive thighs, I plow through donut after donut. One by one the other fatties fall out until it’s just Ammar, Chet, and I all on our 4th box of donuts. Somewhere at the beginning of the 5th, Ammar taps out and sits back in his chair, his happy strail stretched farther out than it ever has before. He’s moaning and groaning with his head leaned back and his neck rolls bunching up. I’m feeling his pain as I lean back myself, asking Brock Madrigal to hand me a donut because there’s no way I can lean forward to grab it with this giant ball of distended fat in front of me. He hands it to me and I shove the maple goodness into my hole, washing it down with heavy cream. I’m slow compared to Chet, he’s still got fire in him.
“Bro you look sick,” Ammar says to me, rubbing the bloated parts of his fat belly. I grunt back at him because I do feel sick. There’s no way I can eat more, and fat lardy Chet is going to beat me. I try to push my chair back but the table slides forward because I’m too heavy to push myself back anymore.
“Looks like we have our winner!” Brock Madrigal shouts, raising Chet’s fat arms in celebration as he swallows his last donut and puts another in his mouth. Damn, that’s a power mover right there. He still had more room in him, that’s impossible. The residents around throw back their drinks and yell congratulations at his victory over me.
Chet sits back and Brock Madrigal rubs his belly aggressively. That could’ve been me! That should’ve been me. The pig bitch’s shrunken cock head is sticking out as Brock Madrigal strokes his belly. Instead of being with Brock Madrigal I’m sitting here like fatass Ammar rubbing my bloated belly without a trophy to prove shit. Fucking Chet man and his fat ass getting all the praise when all he is is a fat fucking pig bitch. I may eat a lot but I’ll never be like him. I’ll have to find a way to get Brock Madrigal to treat me like that.
//
After that afternoon Chet and Brock Madrigal started hanging out a lot more because he was the donut eating champ. I should’ve eaten more donuts, I wouldn’t have gotten sick. I wasn’t a little fat pig like Ammar. I’m still not, even though I’m definitely fatter than Ammar now. Always knew he couldn’t eat for shit, not that he’s skinny in the slightest. That fat boy must be over 400lbs by now but every time I weigh myself at Highland Market he won’t get on the scale because it’s ‘Not about the number bro it’s about how the food makes you feel’ or whatever. He’s just mad that I’m bigger than him and doesn’t want to admit it. Now, any time I go out food shopping I always make sure to have a box of donuts with me just in case Brock Madrigal is walking around. He needs to know what I’m capable of. They all do: dad, Ammar, Chet, hell even Ricky the maid.
When Ricky first started working here he was thin and capable of helping me when I was too lazy to pick something up or whatever but lately he’s been getting pretty chunky. He’s supposed to wear his white polo tucked into his slacks but now with the gut on him the lower inch or two of his belly is always sticking out. Reminds me of myself when I first moved around here and thought I was just bulking for a couple months. He’s getting kinda lazy too, so I don’t know how long dad’ll keep him around. Sometimes when I ask him to clean the crumbs off of me he’ll say he’s too tired and just did it half an hour ago, that he needs another food break. Pretty piss poor work ethic if you ask me, a total fatty mentality if I ever saw one.
The last 4 months or so Ammar and I’ve spent most of our days chilling out at my house with dad, who’s been let go from his job. It was about time if you ask me. The man was verging in on 350lbs and wearing grey sweatpants and t shirts that got stuck under his moobs to work when the other lawyers told him he wasn’t professional enough anymore. Serves him right, never eating enough and making me look like the tubbo of the family.
I feel fucking lazy too. I’m not used to getting so tired so quick. All I want to do is eat, but even that gets tiring when your arms are three times the size they used to be and your fat moobs shove them out farther than they need to go. My belly is always pushing my gigantic thighs apart, covering my dick even when it’s hard which fuckin sucks. I need someone to come suck this thing before it gets completely trapped in my pubic fat. Ammar does a shit job at it too, his face is getting so fat that it keeps him from going deep enough. His undercut makes his face look bloated, and his tattoos are just weird shapes now that his arms are so lardy. I sometimes try to fuck his massive man tits but my dick is usually too sucked into my own pubic fat, so I just have him suck me off or eat my massively obese bubble butt covered in pie filling. We used to cuddle but now I just have him lay next to me because his weight crushes my huge belly and I can’t breathe too well without his massive self on me. Feels nice to act like a fatass with him sometime though. Just laying around eating and rubbing bellies and chest fat. Really gets me going after eating a bunch.
Now that I’m 428lbs, at least the last time I weighed myself, I think I legit might be able to catch up to Chet. He’s been slowing down with his weight gain and I’m getting bigger and bigger. When I look in the mirror I don’t even know who I am. If I would’ve seen myself now a year ago, I’d think I was just some random fatty who kind of looked like he had the same hair as me. My giant belly rests on the bathroom counter when I look at myself in the morning, my moobs wobble as I walk. My ass sticks out so far and I can only fit in Ammar’s and Ricky’s big trucks now. Even that’s tough because my fat ass raises me high and my head almost hits the top and every bump in the road sends my huge body wobbling. Stretch marks on my bulging love handles, around my back rolls, on the side of my tits. My face has gotten crazy fat too. Huge double chin, absolutely massive. Big jowls, they always get in the way when I’m trying to look down. Not that I need to look down, all I can see is my massive fucking body.
As I pig out naked and huge on the leather sofa tonight, eating buckets of freshly fried popcorn chicken with a gallon of ketchup next to me, I bring the coffee table over to rest my bloating belly on as I cram more and more food in there with my fat sausage fingers. It takes the pressure off my back that constantly fucking hurts lately. Dad sees what I’m doing and he waddles his way over, already pretty full from pigging out all day and not having to work. His gains have been pretty steady too, so he’s no thin mint. I think he said he was around 390lbs a few days ago? As long as he stays behind me I’m fine. Nobody’s going to beat me this time. Dad carefully sets his bloated, bare belly onto the coffee table too and it creaks beneath the weight of our sizable fat storages. He starts eating my chicken, but I tell him to back off so he sends chubby little Ricky down the street to Highland Friend Chicken to pick us up another super duper sized order.
“And you can pick yourself up a kids meal if you want Ricky,” Dad says, winking his puffy face behind his ill fitting glasses. He always likes to tease the little pot bellied guy about how small he is compared to us. Dad’s smooth but gigantic thighs rival mine as our huge, morbidly obese bodies compete for space on the couch, our love handles touching no matter how we sit. With more food on the way, I let dad have a bucket of my chicken and his puffy fingers shove the food into his greased mouth as fast as they can. He also has the same problem as me where every time I want to bring my hand close to my mouth, my blubbery arms push against my moobs making me get out of breath from the resistance. Like back when I’d do chest presses but this is way harder than I remember working out ever being. At least dad looks a little younger like this, his fat face having pushed out much of the slight wrinkles he had.
Ricky comes back with our food and a regular super sized meal for himself, letting Ammar in. He’s wearing nothing but his briefs and a very non concealing XXL tank top I’d given him when I outgrew it. He’d been ringing the doorbell for like 5 minutes but I wasn’t about to get my fat ass off this sofa for him. He’s just going to want to eat all of our food anyway.
Surprisingly though this time he brought groceries from the market. Gallons of ice cream it looks like.
“Alright guys, you’re gonna have to scoot over for me. I cant fit in that small ass arm chair over there.” Ammar says to dad and I.
“Sorry kid.” Dad grunts in between bites, looking at the small amount of space left. “No room.”
“Well make room dude, I need to sit,” Ammar insists, his fat face looking pathetic. I sigh and scoot over, shoving my bloated body against dad’s as much as I can. It’s a good thing fat gives in a lot more than muscle.
Ammar yanks off his excuse of a tank top and drops his fattened belly onto the coffee table next to mine, squeezes in as best he can, but he still can’t fully make it. He doesn’t care though, apparently his ice cream is more important than being comfortable. He makes moaning noises as he shovels the cold liquid into his gullet, ice cream dripping down his scruff and getting caught on his spread out fatty chest hair. Every once in awhile I suck the sweet stuff off of his engorged moobs and he repositions himself, probably getting hard underneath all of his pig bitch blubber.
Dad and I eventually move onto tacking a sheet cake the size of the large coffee table, but we have to remove our bellies to fit the cake in front of us. As the two of us lean back and Ammar takes another bite of is ice cream, the sofa groans beneath us. “Uh oh.” I say, realizing what’s about to happen. The front legs of the couch buckle, letting the frame crash down and break beneath our collective weights. The main crack happens in the middle where I’m sitting, so I scream for Ricky to help me heft my huge body off the broken wood that’s shoving into my side rolls and see Ammar and Dad laying on the floor, bellies in the air, still eating away as if I hadn’t just broken the fucking couch.
Once on my own wide back, eating again, I tell them, “That was kind of fucked up. You guys didn’t even care that that hurt like shit.”
Dad grunts at me.
/
The next day Ricky drives me in his truck to Highland Market for us to pick out a new, reinforced sofa. Before we head to the domestic section of the superstore, I grab a few plates of chicken and waffles and a few cans of pie filling and make my usual order. Ricky makes himself a plate as well, testing the button on his slacks as his shirt rises another half inch. I set my plates on my belly shelf that’s squeezed into the second biggest size mobility scooter. Maybe I should go up a size soon, maybe I’m not that big yet though. I gotta be the biggest before I claim that prize.
Brock Madrigal approaches as I find a much larger leather sofa that’s assured is well reinforced like all of the furniture sold. Brock Madrigal looks bigger, more muscular than before, if that’s even possible, standing next to average height Ricky. Brock Madrigal grabs my double chin with his firm hand and shakes my head slowly as he speaks. “Wow Hayden, looking even bigger than when I last saw you just a few weeks ago I see. What am I going to do with a fat boy like you who seems he just can’t stop growing?”
“Uh, I.. I dunno,” I stammer. “Maybe help deliver a new couch for him?”
“Why would I do that if you’re just going to get so fat you’ll break this one too?” Brock Madrigal teases me, jiggling my bare belly. Jesus Christ that feels amazing. “What a big boy like you is going to need is a couple of king sized beds for your living room. Plenty of room for you to, you know, grow into.” He reaches down my very tight jock strap, smiles realizing how tight it is, and strokes my throbbing cock. “That sound good to you, sir?”
“Uh yes sir. I think that’d work really well. Maybe I’ll get more sleep and, uh, go back to the gym.”
“Nonsense.” Brock Madrigal coos, using my pre cum to lubricate my fat pubic pad. “You’re not going to be working out. Not someone with the lack of discipline you have. So… 3 king sized beds to be delivered to the Turner’s living room? I can have them there by the end of the day.”
//
Those beds in the living room meant I only had to get up to go to the bathroom after that. We still go to the weekly pool socials, but that’s more fun than something I’m obligated to do.
Ricky soon grew out of his maid clothes completely after buying those huge beds and decided to leave the company he was working for rather than asking for a bigger uniform, and he moved in with us so he didn’t have to drive all the way back in town over an hour away twice a day. He’s kind of like our pet now. Our bloated and tubby pet, weighing in around 275lbs and usually waddles around stuffed, small tits and beach ball belly jiggling, wearing my old jock straps as he runs our errands and cleans up after us.
And let me tell you- a guy can really blow up when all he’s doing is laying in bed eating all the time. Ammar, dad, and I have probably all put on at least over 120lbs of blubber each since getting these beautiful bed, with me obviously still taking the cake in weight. We look like three massive, huge, stuffed, sweaty, naked blobs of absolute spherical lard. Our bellies have started to hang like aprons of fat and our neck fat wraps all the way around our heads and folds into our back rolls. Undeniably massive bellies that stick up, constantly bloated and stuffed with all the food we go through. Dad’s glasses stopped fitting and Ammar’s tattoos look like blurry ink around his sweaty, hairy arms that are stuffed with adipose.
Today’s the first pool social of the early summer, roughly my 52nd one to go to. Ricky pulls out the reinforced steps and loads Ammar, Dad, and I into the back of his truck bed where we have to squish against each other uncomfortable like a bunch of overstuffed, out of breath sardines wearing speedos that our fat ex maid bought us hidden under our blubbery rolls. It’s hard to tell whose fat is whose and what stretchmark belongs to which moob or love handle or thigh fat. Ricky sits down heavily in his truck after double checking to make sure the truck bed won’t be dragging on the ground.
We unload with Ricky’s shitty help and waddle over to the food lines, only stopping once to sit down and catch our breaths. Ricky has to help us stand, but he’s been struggling lately as his belly shoves him farther way from under our blubber that he tries to scoop up.
Upon seeing Ricky struggling, Brock Madrigal jogs over and places his muscular forearms underneath my lardy rolls as he hoists me onto me obese feet, his hard cock sticking into my back through his tight speedo.
“Looks like you gentlemen could’ve used some help!” Brock Madrigal says peppily. “We’ve got a big ceremony tonight, so we can’t have you guys missing out! Make sure to get a spot that’s got plenty of room for your absolutely massive bodies and you should be fine.” He walks us over to the food line and leaves to go start helping a few fatties set up a large projector screen and small stage at the head of the pool. Looks like there’s a show tonight so we find some extra wide chairs with a lot of table space for food next to the screen. After a few plates it’s dark enough that they turn on the projector and Brock Madrigal takes the stage, still wearing nothing but his skin tight speedo that barely covers anything on his hulking body.
“Welcome gentlemen to our first Annual Pound A Day Pool Party!” Brock madrigal booms into a microphone. “As some of you may have noticed, we’ve had a number of excellent new community members this past year that the HOA feels it necessary to celebrate. Of these members, there’s been once who stands out much more than the rest in his service to the community.” As he says this an image of me standing in line for food taken at my very first pool party here is displayed on the screen. My body was lean, thin, my waist no more than 30 inches on a fat day. My biceps bulged, my abs were rock hard, my thighs were thin and defined. And my face… doesn’t even look like my face. It looks like the face of some weak, skinny bitch who doesn’t know how to eat.
“For those of you who might not know,” Brock Madrigal continues. “This is what Hayden Turner used to look like when he first got here. Why don’t you come join me up here, Hayden? Cmon guys, let’s get him up here!” The crowd starts chanting my name and a skinny 350 pounder brings an extra wide chair onto the metal stage for me to sit on. With some help I waddle myself to the extra wide chair where Brock Madrigal hands me a box of donuts that say ‘Great Job Fatass!’ on them. He pats my shoulder, sending my expansive belly wobbling as I pick up a donut with my extra stuffed sausage fingers and chew, enjoying the attention for all of my hard work.
“The HOA has kept track of all of Hayden’s work here at Highland Meadows,” Brock Madrigal says, flashing through images of me at different pool parties, clothing stores wearing tight clothes, grocery shopping, the donut competition where I look pissed off and still rubbing my small belly after losing, the day I hit 400lbs and stopped wearing shirts, a last image where I’m slightly smaller than I am now, being carried off to a pool party in Ricky’s truck. I progressively gain more and more weight in these pictures until I am the morbidly obese pig I am today. “And we want to award this man for absolutely destroying his body. He could’ve been like me, up here and muscular. He had the potential. Young, fit, disciplined. But look what he’s made of himself.” The men in and around the pool go wild, throwing pieces of food at me and laughing. Whatever lands on me I shove into my greedy, blubbery mouth. “For his complete obliteration of any athleticism he once had, we’d like to award you, Hayden Turner, with the Pound A Day award. This Award is for astute men such as yourself who commit to gaining at least 1 pound of fat per day for a whole year. Now, we do have some honorable mentions. Ammar Fox for example looks like he’s put on at least 300 since getting here, but you literally take the cake Hayden. Not even Chet could manage those kinds of gains. He couldn’t grow the fat tits you have, the huge belly. His ass is nowhere near as goddamn huge as yours!”
As he says that last part, Chet screams out “Yo fuck you I didn’t get fat like this mother fucker!” from somewhere in the crowd and the crowd laughs again.
“With that gentlemen, a round of applause for our first annual Pound A Day Award winner!” Brock Madrigal finishes, toasting to the audience. He has me waddle over to an extremely large sheet cake, the kind you see at fairs and such, made of donuts with frosting and sets my chair up in front of the cake. “Here big guy,” he instructs. “Eat this all night, as much as you can. You’ve earned it.” And I do, eat it all night. Brock Madrigal feeds me donut after donut as the chair beneath me creaks. After a bit he leaves for a second and comes back with some lithe and lanky guy in his early 20s with curly hair, a big grin, and abs full of food it looks like. First time I’ve seen someone so skinny since, well, myself.
“I’d like to introduce you to Tyler,” Brock Madrigal tells me in his deep voice. “He’s hoping to become next year’s winner.”
“Cool.” I grunt, frosting on my face. “Do it kid, it’s fun.”
Tyler sticks around for a while to talk about how I did it, he says he found out about this neighborhood and just had to move here. Apparently there’s a whole lot of guys who move into this town specifically to get fat, like some kind of community, and that most guys aren’t surprised with how fat everyone is like dad and I were. Most of the guys here want to be huge, they want to get as big, greedy, and lazy as me. Eventually Tyler tries to grab a donut to keep his bloat up, but I have to ask him to leave. He’s not taking my title any time soon.
Towards the end of the night, as people are starting to leave, Brock Madrigal pipes up as I’m slowing down with the donut chowing. “You know,” He starts. “With an honor like you’ve won tonight you could secure yourself a place on the HOA council if you’d like.”
“That sounds like a lot of effort,” I say breathily, my eyes as wide as my fat face will let them become. I can barely eat all day let alone help run a Home Owners Association.
“Nothing you can’t handle, big boy. I’ll be there to help, really all you’d have to do is back me up and sign paperwork every once in a while. Besides, it secures you a place in my mansion.”
I think for a second. “I’ll do it.” I say suddenly, thinking about finally having someone to take care of me that’s not as lazy as Ricky’s becoming.
/
That night Brock Madrigal takes me to his mansion in his truck bed. A very large, modern house with stilts built into the only hill in town. Secluded from the rest of the neighborhood, surprisingly.
He has me walk in and shows me around until I’m too out of breath to keep going. There’s an expansive kitchen with a couple private chefs that the other HOA council members will share with me. He introduces me to a couple of the other members, all well over 600lbs. Brock Madrigal tells me he’s got big goals for me here, and that I won’t be able to walk like the other council members here in no time. I get hard at that thought. Someone to make me food all day and I can’t walk even if someone wants me to? Hell yea dude.
He sets me up in a dim living room sized bedroom with a California king bed, tv, video games, and breeds the shit out of my gigantic ass with his long, deep, throbbing cock. He holds my tits, shakes my heavy belly, causing me to burp. He sucks on every fat roll and licks every stretch mark. Once he cums in my ass he hands me a pizza from the in room fridge and promises he’ll be back to have more fun in the morning.
I fall asleep knowing I’d come out on top, I’m living the goddamn life. To be bred and fed and taken care of? Sign me the fuck up. AND IM AN HOA COUINCIL MEMBER? Who would’ve thought I’d be given this kind of responsibility?
My first order of business will be not signing off for that new guy, Tyler, to get his exercise equipment in for at least a couple months. Maybe next year he’ll get an empty bedroom here and I’ll be twice his size. I can’t wait.